


liminal

by oHek4te



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caulscott - Freeform, F/M, Romance, Tobanga Totem, Trapped In A Closet, Two Whales Diner, Vortex Club, custodial closet, liminal spaces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oHek4te/pseuds/oHek4te
Summary: max and nathan find themselves meeting in the spaces in between





	1. totem

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in a sort of AU? no time travel powers, or jefferson nonsense, but chloe is alive and well. rachel is ambiguously gone.
> 
> only mildly beta'd so please be kind

She remembers the feeling of his hand around her throat, his thumb pressing against it harshly. She remembers it all too well. She _likes_ remembering it, even.

She remembers their confrontation in the parking lot, the feeling of her nails in his face, his too-hot skin against hers, his face too close. Remembers Warren, poor sweet Warren, jumping to her defense.

She remembers the look on Nathan’s face as Chloe peeled out of the parking lot in her truck, the intensity in his eyes that all but convinced her he had felt the the goosebumps on her skin, heard the soft gasp that slipped from her lips when he clutched at her.

Yes, Max remembers the encounter _very_ well.

It keeps her up now, and she needs out of her stuffy room. Perhaps that is why she finds herself standing in the courtyard outside her dorm in only her pajamas, her bare feet pressing into the cold sidewalk beneath her. She tilts her face to the darkened sky, letting the soft breeze caress her cheeks and muss her hair. Goosebumps prickle across her bare legs.

She takes a deep breath.

The Tobanga stares ever watchful from the corner of the courtyard, and she feels equally soothed and unsettled by the unblinking painted eyes. Still, the more rational part of her brain tells her that sitting in the shadow of it will hide her from the patrolling eyes of both Principal Wells and David Madsen and that is where she decides she will go.

With a quick survey of the courtyard, she makes her way to the totem, padding softly across the turf. The grass is cool and damp against her bare feet, but she doesn't mind it so much. It feels nice, refreshing and only the thought of her shorts being soaked keeps her from plopping down right there.

It is not until she has stepped over the chain barrier and trudged up the hill that she finally sees him. He’s there, already claiming her spot on the shadow of the eerie totem. He doesn’t hear her approach. It’s not until her shadow casts over him in the wake of the streetlamps that even spares her a glance. It quickly twists into a sneer.

“What the fuck do you want, Max fucking Caulfield?”

She almost winces until she notices him analyzing her choice of attire. She suddenly feels entirely naked under his gaze. He has a cigarette pinched lazily between his fingers.

“Uh...I just needed some air...Can I...sit?” She finishes lamely, shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

He scoffs.

“Like I give a shit.”

He makes no move to scoot over, and she tries to settle into the shadow as much as possible without touching him. He takes a drag, and the smell makes Max’s nose turn up on instinct.

If he notices her distaste, he does not indicate it. She closes her eyes, and tries to focus on the feel of the breeze on her face, to ignore his presence; close, but not quite. Hasn’t she come out here to try and forget about what happened earlier? Yet, here he was.

She takes a deep breath, scrubbing her hands over her face once, twice. His only response is the slight twitch of an eyebrow and a second drag from his cigarette.

A long silent pause sits between then, tension bubbling up slowly until Max wants to absolutely scream. Finally, she decides she will say something.

At the same time that she opens her mouth, though, another voice sounds, from across the courtyard. Principal Wells. In tandem, Max and Nathan look at each other, and some part of her is surprised at the panic on his face. Rich kids didn’t get in trouble around here.

She only has a moment to think before she realizes that she is the one who will give them away. She’s only barely hidden behind the Tobanga, and her white pajama shirt glows in the lamplight.

The voice gets closer, and she realizes that Principal Wells is on one of his drunken night patrols. If he sees Max, he will find Nathan as well, and it seems this has occurred to him.

Before she can react, Nathan has rubbed his cigarette into the wet grass and is grabbing her, and her brain scrambles. He is evidently stronger than his wiry frame indicates, because he pulls her across him haphazardly, one hand gripping her wrist, the other fisted in the side of her shirt.

When she opens her mouth to protest, he claps a hand over it, hissing at her to “ _shutthefuckupcrackfield_ ”

Principal Wells’ voice continues to draw closer, and the pair sits in tense silence, Max hovering over Nathan shakily. She is on her knees, his own pressing into her sides firmly to avoid sticking out. Unaware, she has braced herself with one hand on his shoulder and one on his thigh, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

His breath mingles with hers, but he’s not looking at her. His head tilts to the side to listen for the rambling drunk; she takes advantage of his distraction to really look at him. The four fading pink lines on his cheek stand out, and she almost winces. Her handiwork.

She continues her exploration, taking inventory of the soft baby hairs that have fallen into his face, the high set of his cheekbones. His jawline, always clenched in disdain. His adam apple bobs, and she realizes that he is actually scared of getting caught too.

His eyes flicker back to hers and she is startled at just how _blue_ they are. They’re even just a little bit pretty. It is a deep blue that reminds of her of the whales that call Arcadia Bay home. They dart away again, searching for Wells, and she’s left to her own examinations.

Underneath the tobacco smell, she notices that there’s something else. It’s a mixture of cologne, and something else sharper. She feels his hand getting clammy on her mouth, and she tries to wiggle away. He drops his hand unceremoniously, but the pressure of his knees against her ribs doesn’t let up and the grip on her wrist is still tight.

The drunken slur of the principal has grown closer, his mumblings unintelligible. Still, Nathan does not moved, and Max feels as if she should be holding her breath.

The crunch of leaves tells her then that Wells has taken a step towards their hiding spot, and she feels the grip on her wrist tighten minutely. Nathan’s jaw clenches similarly. She sees the shadow of a muscle twitching.

It isn’t until his eyes slide quickly back to hers that she realizes her hand has also tightened, clenching his thigh before she can stop herself. She feels her cheeks heat and loosens her grip quickly, but she cannot pull her hand away without slipping towards him. He smirks when he realizes it.

Ears burning, she ducks her head quickly, studying the grass between his legs.

Wells’ mumbling draws no closer, but does not get farther away. Max hears the swish of a bottle being upturned and it seems the principal has taken a moment of contemplation with the Tobanga.

They are trapped. Max’s thighs begin to cramp from tensing, but a sliver of movement might give them away. She can’t risk that.

She lifts her head to glance back at Nathan through her bangs; he’s looking away from her again, listening for any indication of movement from Wells. The bone of his knee is starting to grind into her ribcage and she wants to wriggle away, but no luck.

Nathan does not move an inch. If it weren’t for the shallow breaths falling against her cheek, she’d wonder if he was even breathing. They stay frozen in the position for what feels like an eternity, Wells muttering to himself about salary and nosy students and whatever else unintelligible principal matters he has to worry about.

Though he begins to walk away, neither Max nor Nathan dare move until they hear the telltale slam of his door.

Feeling as if she’s been suffocating, she lets out a long huff of air at the same time Nathan does, and she lets herself loosen up. She snatches her hand from his leg abruptly and self-consciously, her cheeks heating again. He doesn’t seem to notice this time. Nathan’s knees slowly unclench, and she almost falls onto her side. Her knees ache.

It is only when she tries to sit back on her heels that she realizes Nathan is still clutching her wrist. She looks from his grip up to his face and back again.

He seems to understand after a beat, dropping her wrist like it has burned him. She scoots quickly away, leaving green stains on her hands and knees, and when she’s sure the coast is clear, finally stands.

Before she can think about it, she offers Nathan a hand. He is visibly surprised, but not any more than she when he actually takes the hand and pulls himself to his feet. She tries not to tip over from the unexpected solidness of him. He almost smirks at this.

He drops her hand again quickly, jamming his own into his jacket pockets. She looks at the ground for a moment before forcing her gaze to meet his.

Nathan is staring back at her, the anger of their previous encounter nowhere to be seen on his face. She notices the intensity of his eyes under the lamps.

Max thinks she likes it.

“Thank you. For not...y’know.” She finally says, shifting her weight from foot to foot. He almost looks surprised for a flash of a moment, before he scoffs and looks away.

“Yeah, whatever, Max.” He mutters softly, and turns to stride away. As he pads down the hill, she softly calls after him before she can think twice.

“Nathan! I...um. I’m sorry. About your face.”

He stops, pausing for a moment but makes no other indication he hears her for a long while. Finally, he inclines his head, then continues on.

Max stares at his back for a long time, watching him cross the courtyard quickly towards the boys’ dorm. He slips into the door, and so quickly that she almost misses it, he turns and gives her one last look, his lips curved up in the faintest semblance of a smile.

It is only after he is gone, and she has slipped back into the safety of her own room that she realizes.

_He called her Max._

 


	2. custodial closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's chapter 2, surprisingly quickly lmao. Mostly unbeta'd so lmk if there's any errors! hope you enjoy, this one had a little bit more build up then i expected so it's a bit longer but I think it's okay. things should start to pick up more in the next chapter or so, so bear with me

A week later, Max is still shaken by her encounter with Nathan. She spends the hours before falling asleep replaying it in her mind. Sometimes she can still feel the burn of his hand on her wrist and when she ducks past him in the hallway quickly, the smell of him hits her nose and she wants to get lost in it.

_Why didn’t he just let Wells find her?_   
_Why hasn’t he been antagonizing her like he has everyone else?_

No, she won’t let herself. She has not yet been able to face him, embarrassed, but she can feel his smirk on the back of her neck when she hurries past. Victoria has taken to giving her strange looks in addition to the typical sneers and cocky smirks.

Even Warren has noticed something is off, and she thinks to herself that that is probably the worst of it. He is relentless, caring friend mode pushed into overdrive. His concern has turned into pestering.

That is probably why she finds herself zoning out now, leaning against her locker. He is saying something, his hand on her shoulder. Some small traitorous part of her brain tells her that it is not the same as Nathan touching her. Warren is soft, gentle, and annoying, her brain chimes in, and she shakes that thought away.

It’s not his fault, she argues with herself, leaning her head back into the locker just a bit too hard. Warren stops talking, his routine concerned look settling into his features. It pulls her back to the present moment.

She looks at him, really looks at him for the first time in a week. His black eye has all but faded totally but she also notices that he holds himself taller, more confident.

“Max, are you sure you’re okay? You’re not yourself. Can I do anything?” he presses for the thousandth time, leaning in a bit to close. Max feels herself growing claustrophobic under the scrutiny and wants to melt into the lockers. She has to remind herself that he means well, but her annoyance has begun to spike.

“Yeah, I’ve just got a lot of schoolwork, and my parents are worried about my grades,” She offers lamely, a new variation of the same old excuse. She wonders how he’s still buying it.

“I can tutor you, if you want. You know I don’t mind,” He presses with a smile.

“No, it’s really okay, I don’t want to impose.” She insists, offering a watery smile.

He opens his mouth to insist, but the school bell saves her and she ducks away from him towards her classroom. Instead of going on his own way, he remains by the lockers, watching her go. To save face, she turns and offers him a last wave.

“Thanks Warren, I’ll see you later!”

Seemingly mollified, he finally turns and leaves. She wants to heave a sigh of relief until she steps through the doorway of Jefferson’s classroom.

She’s not sure why she’s surprised, and she’s definitely not sure why her heart skips a beat when she seems him.

He sits on the table, leaning towards Victoria and laughing at something on her phone. Neither of them have noticed her hovering in the doorway and she has half a mind to turn and run to the bathroom until class has started. Instead, her feet are locked in place. She can neither run from the room nor move towards them.

She has half a mind to whip out her camera and snap a photo of the two of them. Before she can stop herself, or second guess, she has taken the shot. The flash alerts the pair of them and she freezes, deer in the headlights.

Victoria looks angry for a moment before her signature cruel smile slides onto her face. Nathan simply looks amused, leaning back onto his hands. The photo has slipped out of the camera onto the floor. Under their gaze, she makes no move to pick it up. Her ears are reddening and she’s sure her cheeks have followed suit.

“Well, well, well. Max Caulfield has figured out how to take pictures of something other than herself.” Victoria snarks, crossing her arms as she saunters over to where Max stands.

“Yeah, I wanted to try my circus clown photography.” Max snaps before she can stop herself, and Victoria looks half incredulous, half enraged.

However, before she can say something, Jefferson enters the room. Victoria visibly softens, and steps back. At his appearance, Nathan, who was looking eager for a catfight, pushes himself off the desk, crossing to where Victoria stands.

Max is silently grateful for his appearance before her conflict with Victoria could escalate, though. Instead, she kneels to take the photo; a peace offering to Victoria, she thinks.

Standing, she holds it out to Victoria, trying to squash a sneer. Before the taller girl can take it, however, Nathan has plucked it from her hands and disappeared from the room, his shoulder brushing against her as he goes.

Dazed in his wake, she blinks a few times. Before she can offer a half-hearted apology to Victoria, however, the other girl has turned on her heel and stalked back to her desk without a word. Max shuffles to her own table, silently deciding to confront Nathan later to find some answers.

_Why did he take the photo?_

* * *

When Jefferson’s class has ended, Max takes her time packing up her things, placing them in her bag one by one. She doesn’t want to risk a second encounter with Victoria. As she is sliding her journal into her bag and closing it up, her phone chimes once, twice, three times.

One from Chloe, mentioning a potential lead on Rachel. Two from Warren, asking her about a movie, about hanging out. On her way out, she taps out an encouraging message in reply to Chloe, but leaves Warren unread for now.

She’s really not in the mood, especially after her encounter with Victoria and her less than spectacular paper grade from Jefferson. She pokes her head out the door of the classroom, looking each way for signs of Warren hovering.

When she doesn’t see his familiar mop of hair, she slips from the classroom carefully. She has to find Nathan. There is no sign of the tell-tale red jacket in the hallway, which is quickly filling with people. He must have already gone back towards his dorm.

Clutching her bag tightly, she slips past the people checking their lockers, their phones, their friends, and makes it just short of the door when someone grabs her elbow.

She nearly jumps out of her skin, and turns to see Justin blinking at her.

“Yo, Maximum Overdrive! You good dude? Didn’t mean to scare you. Warren just told me to tell you he was looking for you!”

She manages a smile to Justin, pulling her arm close to her body.

“Thanks, Justin. Sorry, I haven’t slept much, so I’m a little jumpy.” She offers sheepishly.

His touch was weird, off. Not Nathan’s her mind whispers. She promptly dismisses the idea.

“I gotta get going, but thanks for letting me know.” She calls over her shoulder, and he waves back as she slips out of the building.

A quick scan of the front courtyard of the school yields no Nathan or Warren. As she makes her way through the courtyard, ducking under Brooke’s drone and narrowly dodging Ms. Grant and her petition, she keeps an eye out for a telltale flash of red.

When he does not surface here, she slips around the back towards the dormitories. As she rounds the corner, she nearly trips in her haste and braces against the bricks. Ahead of her, she sees what she thinks is the slip of a red sleeve, and hurries to catch up.

She finally sees Nathan, long ahead of her. She nearly calls out his name, but thinks better of it; she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. Instead, she hurries after him, finally catching up to him near Samuel’s custodial closet. She grabs his sleeve before she can stop herself. He finally turns to look at her, and she can tell he’s laughing at her inside.

“Wow Caulfield, are you stalking me or something?” He mocks, but it’s not entirely mean. The corner of his mouth is lifted in a half smirk, and she thinks that that’s progress.

“Uh, no. I mean. I was looking for you but.” She starts lamely, and she knows that he’s going to start laughing at her any minute.

“Why the fuck could you possibly be looking for me?” He says, and looks down at her hand. She’s still pinching the sleeve of her jacket between her fingers. Embarrassed, she quickly drops it, and unconsciously clutches the strap of her messenger bag.

“I actually , I wanted to ask you something, about the other-” She starts, trailing off lamely when she notices he’s not even looking at her. He’s looking over her shoulder, and the mirth in his face has increased tenfold.

“Look out now, your boytoy is looking for you. I better watch out, he might try to beat me up.” Nathan snickers, looking briefly back at her face. He is confused as to why her eyes have suddenly gotten wide, and then she is pushing at him.

He does not move at first, even as she is shoving at him, and it occurs to her how solid he is under her hands. And how tall. He is scowling at her, moving to grab her wrists.

“What the fuck-”

“Go! Get in the closet!” She practically hisses, and he finally takes a step back, then another.

She shoves him into Samuel’s custodial closet, then follows, pulling the door shut without thinking. She bangs her head against the door once, sighing. She stays in that position for too long before Nathan clears his throat.

“What the fuck, are you on drugs?”

Not the most eloquent conversation starter. She turns to him, letting her back hit the door instead and rubs her face.

“Sorry. I was just. Uh. Hiding.” She finally offers, letting the back of her head knock against the door.

His eyebrow raises dangerously high.

“Hiding. From….Gayram? Your little stalker? Why, aren’t you two like, in love or some shit?” Nathan scoffs and she just knows that he is about to start laughing at her.

“No! God, no! He’s just…” Max trails off into a groan, and wants to smash her skull against the door at the thought of Warren looking for her.

“He’s just very eager. And I’m not really in the mood today for his...Warren-ness.” She tries again.

“So you pushed me into a closet. Instead of just. I don’t know, going into your room. Or whatever.” His shoulders are visibly shaking minutely, silently snickering at her. He thinks she’s stupid.

“No, you- he’s gotten all big-headed bout his ‘white-knight’ status and if he saw me talking to you, he’d probably just get his ass kicked again. Nobody wants to see that.” She mumbles the last part, and she thinks Nathan may actually be having a seizure the way he is shaking, doubled over in silent laughter in front of her.

“You’re funny, Crackfield. I’d kick his ass again.”

Max believes him.

“By the way, the way you were chasing after me, you obviously fucking wanted something? What is it? Or did you just want another photo?”

She is almost speechless. Is he...joking with her?

“Oh. Yeah. I wanted to ask you. About the other night, when we were hiding. Why didn’t you just let Principal Wells catch me?”

His laughter stops, and he stares at her.

“Is that what you’ve been all bent out of shape about?” He seems surprised. She didn’t know that he had noticed her change in mood and she’s not sure how to feel about that new information.

“W-what do you mean?”

He takes a step towards her, her back against the figurative wall. He is close enough to touch now, towering over her despite his ever present slouch.

“You’ve been avoiding me, dumbass. I’m not fucking stupid. You don’t look at me, you turn and run in the opposite direction like a dog with your goddamn tail between your legs.” He was more observant than she thought.

She has to tip her head back to look up at him. The scratches on his cheek from her nails have all but faded. A tiny voice in the back of her head thinks they made him look scarier, and that voice is glad they’re gone.

“What’s the deal then? Huh?” He presses, and she gets nervous.

“I just don’t understand you! First you try to strangle me, then next thing I know, you’re helping me hide from the principal! Then you steal my photo...” She huffs, and she imagines she’s making a face that her parents would call bratty.

“You think too hard.” He snorts. “Besides, I don’t think you had permission to take that photo in the first place.”

Her ears redden, but she stands her ground.

“Still! You’re crazy, Prescott,” She retorts, embarrassed. He laughs, not entirely nice but not cruel either.

“You’re one to talk, Max Crackfield.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, which worsens his slouch, but he is still hovering over her. She starting to find it a little hard to breathe. While he doesn’t tower over her, he is till tall enough to box her in against the door, and she has to squash the tiny voice in her head that likes it a little too much.

Max opens her mouth to reply, but the sound of Warren’s voice just outside the door silences her.

He is asking Samuel after her. She prays silently to whatever spirits are listening that Samuel hadn’t noticed her shoving the school’s biggest asshole into a closet. Or, if he did, that he wouldn’t rat her out.

Samuel’s soft voice doesn’t carry through the door, so she cannot hear his response, but after a moment Warren speaks, indicating that Samuel has not given them away. Warren’s voice fades as he walks away, and when she looks back up at Nathan’s face, the taller boy actually has the audacity to grin back down at her.

“This isn’t funny!” She hisses, fumbling behind her for the doorknob.

“Loosen up. It’s pretty fucking hilarious, the way I see it.” Laughter is dancing in his eyes. The voice in her head is back, and it is of the opinion that he looks very good like that. Max shushes it, and finally finds the knob.

He’s still in her personal space, and she needs to breathe fresh air. Part of her wants far away from him.

Part of her wants to find a reason to keep talking to him, to stay in this closet for a long, long time. Instead, she turns the knob, and the pair of them stumble out together. Her toe catches on the heel of her other shoe, and she feels herself tumbling back.

Before she can process it, however, Nathan has reached out and snatched her, catching her. Her face heats. Of course her clumsiness shows itself now.

He helps her right herself before pulling his hand back, stuffing it back into his pocket. She can feel Samuel’s eyes on them, but she quickly tries to catch a last word before Nathan leaves again.

“Thanks. And uh, sorry. About the closet, I mean.” She offers a tentative smile in his direction.

He scoffs. As he turns to leave, he looks over his shoulder back at her, the last word his.

“Whatever, you klutz. Don’t want another broken camera on my conscience.” He’s laughing now as he walks away, and she thinks that he is infuriating and confusing all at once, but he’s not as bad as he seems.

Then, as she looks at Samuel, who has not said a word yet, she realizes something.

_Nathan grabbed her hand this time._


	3. diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max didn't know they'd started a staring contest, although this feels more like staring tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh sorry for the delay! I just graduated college so that was super hectic in the last few months. this is sort of a bridge chapter, but things will def amp up in the final two chapters ;3

Max finds that the less she tries to blatantly avoid Nathan Prescott, the more he seems to appear. In her peripherals, always with Victoria before class, even spending a little more time lingering in the courtyard of the Blackwell dorms.

However, she also finds that, as a direct result, Warren hovers more, clinging, shoulders always bared as if he is ready to block a bullet for her. He waits outside of her classroom more, settles on the steps of the dorm if she “just needs to run grab something.” She feels a little like she’s being babysat, and it’s starting to get annoying.

She also feels bad for feeling this way, but the voice in her head, the same one that quietly comments _just how good Nathan’s butt looks in those chinos_ , tells her that it’s okay because he’s just smothering her a little bit.

Today is no exception when Jefferson’s class is let out, Warren’s there waiting, talking with Brooke. She thinks to herself that he should hover around Brooke a little more. He brightens when he spots her, and she doesn’t miss the nasty cut of the eyes Brooke sends her way. Brooke seems to agree with her inner monologue.

“Hey, Max! I was just telling Brooke about this cool movie-” her phone buzzes in her bag at that moment, and Max makes a mental note to find a church and thank someone for it.

Fishing the device out, she sees Chloe’s cheeky grin on the screen.

“Sorry, Warren, Brooke. Important business.” She offers with a smile, back away down the hallway before answering.

“Yo, Max! Two Whales, 20 minutes. I have big news!” Chloe gushes, and Max only has time to say okay before she’s hung up on. Perhaps it’s the infectiousness of Chloe’s manic energy, or just a slight giddy high from lucking out on avoiding Warren, but Max feels a skip in her step, and she hurries out towards where the bus will pick her up.

Knowing Chloe, the news would be related to Rachel Amber, the missing girl she was hung up on. Max never tires of hearing about Rachel though, if only because of the way that Chloe’s face lights up and her smile looks like it’s going to crack her face in half.

Max likes that Chloe is happy. As she stands, waiting for the bus, she tucks her earbuds into her ears, hitting play on her phone. Soft acoustic guitar fills her ears, and she gazes around the courtyard curiously. Justin and Trevor have settled in their usual skateboard locale by the corner, and Daniel is under the tree sketching Dana while Juliet suns herself idly nearby.

She kind of likes the atmosphere here at Blackwell. The bus finally arrives, interrupting her contemplation, but she hasn’t taken more than a single step towards the opening doors when the honking of a horn jolts her. A red truck nearly rear-ends the bus, horn blaring. At the last second, the truck swerves around it, and Max thinks that she recognizes the slouch of the driver as the vehicle flies past.

_Nah, couldn’t be._

She shakes off the thought and hurries onto the bus before the driver can shut the doors on her. Picking a seat near the front, she settles against the window, turning the volume on her music up for the ride.

* * *

 

 

When she arrives at the diner, it’s a little more crowded than normal, and Max chews her lip idly as she scans for Chloe. No sign yet, of course she’s late. As she looks around however, the familiar mess of sandy hair catches her eye, and her cheeks heat on reflex. He’s here.

He has his back to her, and his shoulders are hunched as if he’s looking at something on the table. She isn’t sure if she should say hi or not. However, she doesn’t have time to ponder it for more than a second when Joyce spots her.

“Max, sugar!” She tries to pretend not to notice when Nathan’s head perks up ever so slightly, and waves at Chloe’s mother.

“Hey Joyce. Beat Chloe again, I guess.” She laughs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The voice in her head is back, making note that the only open booth is next to Nathan’s.

“That child of mine wouldn’t be on time to her own funeral.” Joyce teases back, and gestures for her to find a seat. “The regular?”

Max nods, and shuffles to the open booth. As she passes him, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and she knows he is watching her. Her ears heat and she considers sitting with her back to him to avoid his gaze, but she knows that Chloe will whine if she doesn’t get her traditional seat.

Resigned, she slides into her proper side, plopping her bag next to her. Her eyes catch Nathan’s for a fraction of a second before she ducks her head. The tips of her ears are only growing hotter. She does not miss his smirk.

However, the burn of his eyes on her does not last long before Chloe has slid into the booth across from her, effectively cutting off his stare. She peeks up at her blue-haired friend through her bangs.

“Maximus! Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” She beams, and Max notices she’s practically vibrating in her seat. Her excitement is nearly infectious and before she can stop herself, she is smiling back at Chloe.

“Only a million years. I’m wasting away over here.” Max teases back. Chloe opens her mouth to retort, but the clatter of a plate of food in front of Max interrupts her.

“Child of mine, what can I get you?” Joyce smiles tightly. Max wonders if they fought again. As she looks at back at Chloe, she dares a glance behind her to Nathan, but he is engrossed in his phone. At least he isn’t staring at her anymore, she thinks, but some part of her is disappointed.

She shakes that feeling away, and focused back on their table. Chloe has apparently finished ordering, or either she snapped at her mother and Joyce left them alone, because she is walking away. The smell of the waffle under her nose is too good to ignore any longer though.

She fumbles for her silverware. Chloe clears her throat.

Ah right, her news.

Max quickly shoves a bite of waffle into her mouth before the other girl can say anything, then looks expectantly at her. Chloe looks like she might explode.

“Okay, so my news! Max, are you ready???”

Max is ready. She chews slowly with a nod, wishing Chloe would hurry up and tell her already. Her eyes dart again to Nathan before she can stop herself. He is just looking up from his phone with a smile, and they lock eyes.

She quickly pulls her gaze away, locking it firmly on Chloe.

“So. You know how Rachel has been all AWOL and stuff? Well, guess what shows up in my mailbox this morning! Hells yeah, it’s a postcard from this bitch! Turns out, she’s been kicking it in LA without me this whole time. I’m so pissed!” The blue-haired girl doesn’t stop to take a breath. Max thought to herself that she didn’t look that pissed.

Chloe barrels on.

“So, anyways, right. Do you wanna see it? Of course you wanna see it!” She’s just put another forkful of waffle in her mouth as Chloe is sliding the postcard across the table.

However, as she reaches for it, movement behind Nathan catches her attention. He’s sliding out of the booth, and she has almost forgotten how impossibly tall he is. Possibly even taller than Chloe, though she’s never thought to compare before.  
She expects him to turn and leave with perhaps just a smirk over his shoulder; instead, he turns fully toward their table, then saunters over.

“Ladies, I hear a rousing discussion.” His grin is wicked as he looks down at them. Chloe instantly looks suspicious, her hand clamping back down on the postcard.

“What do you want, Prescott?” She snaps, eyes narrowing.

Max swallows her waffle with some difficulty.

He hasn’t looked at Chloe directly yet, his eyes only flickering between the postcard and Max.

“Relax, Blue is the Rudest Color. I heard you talking about Rachel and I thought I’d toss an invitation to the Vortex Club party. In her honor, or whatever.”

She’s sure she must be dreaming now. Them, being invited to a Vortex Club party? It must be a sick joke.

“Uh…” she begins, but Chloe has already cut her off.

“Right, thanks but not thanks douchelord. We’ll pass.”

Max shuts her mouth. Nathan simply looks amused, and finally tosses Chloe a glance out of the corner of his eye before turning to leave. She wants to grab his sleeve, tell him she’ll be there.

“Whatever you say, kiddies. Tori’ll put your names down in case you change your minds.” He leaves then, slipping Max one last amused glance before heading to the counter to pay. She watches his retreating figure, slumping a little.

All she could say was um? How embarrassing.

Chloe scoffs. “What a pretentious fucker.”

She still hasn’t looked away. He’s talking with Joyce now, and she knows she should turn her attention back to Chloe. She’s about to finally pull her gaze away when suddenly, Nathan says something that makes Joyce look over at her in surprise, before back at him.

She ducks her head, face burning.

Chloe, always shameless, turns and looks.

Max wants to melt into the booth. Whatever Nathan said was surprising enough to Joyce to melt her cool exterior for a second. It must have been really embarrassing.   
Chloe is saying something but she can’t look up. It’s not until the door has slammed and the sound of Joyce’s heels are clicking towards the table that she dares to peek through her hair.

“Max, do you know that boy?” The surprise has drained from Joyce’s face into her voice.

Max nods slowly.

“Yes ma’am...kind of.” She admits meekly.

“Well, he’s paid for your meal, and my delinquent daughter’s too. So you must be friends?”

Max’s head snaps up then, and she looks out the window for a sign of him just in time to see the tail lights of his truck. That bastard. Now she was obligated to thank him somehow!

“Thanks Joyce. I gotta go, I just remembered I have to talk to one of my teachers before class.”

Lame excuse. She gathers her things haphazardly, then glances at Chloe, eyes pleading.

Chloe seems to catch on.

“Oh, uh right! I’ll drive you. Let’s go, Max. Thanks mom.”

Joyce, for once lost for words, finally nods.

The pair make their escape, and Max pleads that Chloe won’t say anything on the ride over to Blackwell. She isn’t sure what to think; she spends the ride back to campus mulling the past hour over in her head.

_All in one day, he bought her lunch and invited her to a party._


	4. bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max has long known that nathan shouldn't have been in the girl's bathroom that day, but now she's absolutely sure she probably shouldn't be in the boy's bathroom either

How Max has talked herself into going to this party, she’ll never quite figure out. But at the party she is. She fiddles anxiously with her clothes, some on loan from Chloe that belonged originally to Rachel.

Chloe refuses furiously to set foot near this party, but after Max has finally put her foot down that she is going, Chloe relents enough to help Max out in the wardrobe department. After an extensive dress-up party, Max is finally content with a selection, and Chloe practically shoves her out of the truck towards her dorm before the party.

Now, Max stands just inside the party, held in the main building of Blackwell, in the corner, tugging at the shirt that is just short enough to be a crop top on her. She silently curses Rachel Amber and her own long torso, and wishes she had her usual messenger bag to hide behind.

She looks around for someone, anyone, hoping that maybe even Kate has decided to show up. Finally, across the lobby, dancing in the corner are Juliet and Dana, and Max practically runs to them, shy smile on her face.

Dana lights up when she spots Max, arms outstretched for her.

“Max, girl you came!!!” Juliet, while less verbally excited, nods at Max appreciatively, spinning to the music. They both have drinks in their hands, and she wonders what it is.

“Hey Dana. Hey Juliet.” She has to shout over the music, but pushes on. “Crazy party. What’re you guy drinking?”

Juliet’s head whips back to Max, surprised. “Punch, you want?”

Punch doesn’t sound too bad. Max nods. _Be cool. It’s just punch._

Juliet passes her the cup in her hand; Max takes an experimental sniff before sipping it. Juliet exchanges a surprised look with Dana, but it’s quickly erased by smiles.

Max takes another sip. It’s good, fruity with a sour undertone. She sips again

“Max, I didn’t think you came to these kind of things.” Dana comments, pulling her into their dance circle. “I’m glad you did though! And you look hot!” She leans in to make herself heard.

Max smiles wide. “Thanks. I’m new at all this. You guys look great too.” She adds, glancing at Juliet. Juliet smiles back.

Dana laughs, pushing the cup back to Max’s mouth, and she takes a longer sip. Juliet leans in closer.

“I love your outfit Max. Great choice. I never would have pegged you for a crop-top skinny jeans, kind of girl. And those booties!”

Dana chimes in her agreement. “The leather jacket is a nice touch. You look hot!”

Max silently thanks Rachel Amber, wherever she is.

“Oh, thanks. I kind of figured the Vortex Club has a dress code.” She laughs, another sip. She’s feeling warm and giggly from being around Juliet and Dana.

Dana finishes off her drink, tossing the cup behind her. Max mimics, and sets her cup down near them. The girls grab her hands, dancing. Max takes the opportunity to survey the party. Nathan hasn’t shown his face yet that she’s noticed, and she hates that she’s disappointed by that.

No matter. She dances against them, laughing with the pair as Juliet spins her around. This is fun, she notes. Maybe the Vortex Club isn’t as bad as she thinks. Their dance party is soon interrupted by a tap on Juliet’s shoulder.

Zachary, a drink in each hand, smiles at them, Hayden with him. Juliet plucks both drinks from his hands, passing one to Max, and sipping the other one.

“This is even better than before. Max, try it.” She does as commended, and sips from the new cup. It is better.

Dana mock pouts, but before she can say anything, Hayden slips a cup into her outstretched hands and she smiles.

Max drinks on autopilot, and the dance party resumes. Soon she ditches her jacket as the temperature of the hallway rises. She’s not sure how long they dance, but she does notice when her cup is empty.

She’s about to spin and look for the punchbowl when a hand plucks it from hers. She looks to its source and find herself face-to-chest with Nathan. Her face, along with the rest of her, is on fire suddenly.

He’s here.

Nathan grins down at her, then whistles lowly. She looks down.

“Max Amber, look. at. You. All dressed up with somewhere to go.” She thinks he’s actually teasing her. She giggles despite herself.

He eyes her cup, then continues.

“Looks like someone’s all out of drink. Let’s go find you another and see if I can catch up.” He places a hand on the small of her back, and her bare skin prickles under his touch. Behind her, the dance party has slowed, and they’re all watching her. Dana puts a hand on her shoulder protectively.

“You don’t have to go with Nathan…” she starts, but Max just beams over her shoulder.

“No worries, Dana. Just getting drinks. You want?” Dana doesn’t look any less mollified but she nods.

Nathan exchanges a scowl over her head with someone, but she doesn’t have time to turn and see who before he leads her away. He’s wearing a different jacket, new and blue, she notices a little hazily, and his eyes look brighter than they have. He looks down at her, the curve of his mouth pleased. She blushes, looks away.

He makes a noise in his throat that she realizes is a laugh. The sound warms her face further and she’s still keenly aware of his hand on her skin despite herself.

As he leads her to the drink table, weaving through the crowds and pulling her with him, she realizes she doesn’t actually know where it is. As she finds out, it’s near the bathrooms, which she giggles at the irony of.

He looks down at her, eyebrow raised, when the sound bubbles out of her, and she’s not sure why but suddenly she can’t stop giggling. She expects him to make fun of her, or ask her what she’s laughing at, but instead he only turns and retrieves both of them a drink.

When she reaches for the one he hands her, their hands touch and she’s surprised at how smooth and soft his skin is. He meets her eyes, and she quickly lifts the cup to her mouth to hide her red face.

He takes a long swig from his own cup, and smiles. This punch tastes different, sharper and stronger, and it makes her head feel like fireworks. She definitely likes this one.

When she finally looks up from her cup she’s surprised to find him swaying to the music. She almost sputters into the remains of her drink as the laughter bubbles out of her again. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by the arrival of Victoria.

“Nate, late as always.” She smiles at him before turning her eyes on Max. Max braces herself for the inevitable barbs from Victoria, but the taller girl surprises her.

“Maxine! You made it!” She purrs, looking her up and down. “And you look like you’ve found some style finally. Maybe you are Vortex material. Let me get you another drink.”

It all happens so fast, that Max barely has time to open her mouth to protest before Victoria is pushing another cup into her free hand and smiling at her. She’s scarcely finished her third, and they’re both smiling at her.

“Tori, you’re looking a little drunk already.” Nathan teases her, not unkindly, and she shoves him.

“Nathan, you look like you’re playing catch up.” She retorts, pushing a drink into his other hand too. He finishes off his previous cup as Victoria finds herself one.

“So, does Max dance or does she just wallflower?” Victoria presses, leaning in. She smells like florals and something that Max identifies as alcohol.

“Hey, hey, lay off, she’s new at this.” Nathan teases, but the glimmer in his eyes tell her he’s daring her to show them what she’s got. Feeling bolder than usual, she takes a big swig of her drink then nearly shoves it into Victoria’s hands.

She throws her arms above her head and spins in a way that she thinks mimics Dana and Juliet. Remembering the way that they had grabbed her hands and danced with her, she reaches first for Victoria, whose hands are both occupied with drinks, then for Nathan.

He allows her to pull him in close, then spins her once, twice. She’s feeling very warm and for the first time the thought that she might be drunk crosses her mind. However, meeting first Victoria’s smile, then Nathan’s as he dances with her, she decides she doesn’t care.

Victoria, despite her two drinks, sways close to them, and she’s sure they make a strange picture, dancing all together as if they’ve been long-time friends. Victoria leans in at one point and says something, and Max isn’t sure what it is, but she laughs when Victoria does.

It’s not long though before Taylor and Courtney arrive and pull Victoria away. She blows a kiss at them as she’s led away, and Max realizes she’s taken her drink with her. Pouting, she looks to Nathan, then snatches his drink when his guard is down.

“Hey!” He reaches for it, swiping at her, but she ducks away, and chugs it before him. He lunges for her, but she’s downed it before he can get to her. In her dodge, her back hits the wall; he’s towering above her, corners of his mouth curling mischievously. She’s laughing now, and she can’t seem to stop.

Nathan is looking down at her, and she’s looking back up at him; she wonders drunkenly if this is what high school movies are really about.

“You owe me for that, Max,” he teases, and she cocks her head. “I need another drink now, and you owe me a dance.” He grins, then grabs her shoulders and steers her towards the drink table.

Dutifully, she sways over to the table and retrieves him a drink. He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as she returns, and she feels the laughter bubbling up in her again. Yes, Max is feeling very bold indeed. Locking eyes with him, she slowly pulls the drink up to her lips and takes a slow sip.

“Caulfield!” He mocks hurt, but she hands over his drink, still swaying.

“Now about that dance.” He grins wider, and a more sober, less fun Max would have blushed, and refused, and run back to her room then and there.

Instead, this new Max grins back, and sways and spins before him as he sips his drink. Feeling a little bashful dancing alone, she reaches for him and pulls him close to dance with her.

He gives in, swaying with her, and she’s noticing she’s a lot warmer suddenly. Her head is buzzing, but she likes it. This close, she can smell past the punch to him; he smells like cologne, and underneath, a clean fresh small she can’t identify. He smells good.

He looks down at her, then spins her suddenly, pulling her back against him. That’s when Max notices that the music has changed to something slow and smooth from the former pumping beat. He’s slipped his arm around her, his hand resting on the bared skin above her skinny jeans, and she thinks her heart is going to beat out of her chest onto the floor. The other holds his drink, and she hesitantly lets her head fall against his chest.

She can hear Nathan’s heartbeat through his shirt. It’s slow and steady as he sways with her. Before long, the music had changed back to the upbeat electronic beats from before, but he made no move to release her. He does, however, lean over to say something in her ear. His breath tickles her neck and her skin prickles, but she can’t hear what he says.

She turns to face him, her chest flush against her; looking up questioningly at him, she mouths “What?”

He starts to say it again, then shakes his head and downs the rest of his drink. Dropping the cup on the ground, he grasps her upper arms gently and turns her around to steer her somewhere quieter.

Max lets him guide her in an unknown direction, stumbling only once; after his hands hold her more firmly. He pushes her through a door and in her drunk giggly haze she forgets to look at the sign.

When he pushes her inside however, she realizes exactly where they are. Still, the voice in her head that would normally tell her to panic and run is oddly quiet, and she lets nathan guide her to the quiet corner out of sight of the door.

She turns to face him, letting her back hit the cool wall. He hovers above her, mouth curved up in what she thinks is a real smile.

“I said,” Nathan starts, slouching down closer to her level, “I’m glad you came tonight, Max.”

Looking up at him again, she holds his gaze this time.

“I’m glad I came too, Nathan.”

He seems minutely surprised that she said his name, but what she notices more is that his hand has found her skin again, sliding down from her arm to her waist. He steps closer, his thumb tracing soft circles against her skin.

“I didn’t think you would.” He murmurs.

She nods in reply, her mouth dry suddenly. She licks her lips, and nearly freezes when his eyes follow the movement.

He smiles suddenly, and she likes this smile. It is a real Nathan smile, with none of the malice or mocking that he usually has. She likes drunk Nathan, she thinks.

She kind of likes drunk Max too, because drunk Max is suddenly much braver than sober Max would be.

Before she can hold herself back, she leans in, and he meets her halfway, pressing his mouth to hers firmly. She’s only kissed one other boy, when she was 16 on a dare. This is nothing like that.

He pulls away just a hair after a moment, licking his lips. She looks up at him through her lashes, chewing on her lip. She wants him to kiss her again. Instead, he stays perfectly still, barely breathing; in her drunk brain somewhere, she decides it’s her move.

Fisting her hands in the collar of his jacket, she pulls him against her fully. Just before she can press her mouth back to his, he grins widely. Her eyes flutter shut just as he leans down to meet her.

“Maxine~” He practically purrs, and crushes her against the wall with his body. For once, she takes no objection to the name. His mouth meets hers and she lets him take the lead.

The hand on her waist moves down to her hip, gripping firmly. The other, still on her arm slides up to her neck, cupping it and tilting her head back to fit their lips together more perfectly. She practically melts against him; when he swipes his tongue deftly against her lower lip, she lets a sharp gasp slip out, and he growls low in his throat.

Max thinks that’s _very_ hot.

She likes the way he fits against her; she especially likes it when he slips a leg between hers, pushing her up against him further. His chest is flush against hers; she takes the opportunity to release one of the hands in his jacket and brings up to the one he has on her neck.

Covering it with hers, she presses his thumb harder against her neck. He catches on, and guides her hand to fist in his shirt before bringing his back to her neck. When he mimics her action, she sighs softly against his mouth.

Her chest is heaving against his. She whimpers when he pulls away from her finally, but his lips barely leave her skin before he kisses his way to her throat. He trails kisses down from her ear to the hollow of her throat and back up again, mixing bites in.

Max lets her head fall back against the tiles, a moan slipping through her lips before she can stop it. Nathan rumbles something against her throat, then focuses on a spot, sucking and nipping. Her other hand finds its way into his hair, tangling in the strands. He groans into her skin, then makes his way back to her mouth. She leans up to meet him again, her tongue dancing hesitantly against his.

The hand on her waist slides up softly, slipping under the hem of her crop top to find purchase in the soft skin there, but goes no further. A fuzzy part of her brain wants him to.

Something begins to coil low in her stomach. She hopes she isn’t about to throw up, but a strategic pressure from Nathan’s thumb on her throat swipes that thought, and all others, from her mind and she whines against his mouth.

Feeling bolder still, she rolls her hips flush against his, and he groans loudly, pulling away to look down at her, shocked. She does it again, grinning up at him.

He takes a second to really look at her. Is this the same Max from before? She is red-faced, her chest heaving and he can’t help but let his gaze linger. Her hair is mussed and he thinks she looks absolutely delicious.

She’s gazing back at him, eyes lidded and lips parted. He _really_ likes this Max.

He’s leaning in again when suddenly the door opens to the bathroom. He pays it no mind until he catches sight of Max’s face, looking quite the opposite of what it had just been.

She’s looking over his shoulder, her hand clenching in the fabric of his shirt, and he lazily glaces over his shoulder to see her obnoxious stalker-friend standing in the door, mouth agape.

“M-Max…?” He stammers, and it’s then that Nathan is grateful he’s not more intoxicated. In one swift movement, he grabs Max’s hand and spins them both. She’s positively dazed, and her eyelids are lowering.

Though her friend stands blocking the exit, Nathan pulls Max along and shoves past him. He doesn’t expect Warren to reach for her other arm; yanking her to him, Nathan grabs her by her shoulders and hurries her along. She’s stumbling now, and murmuring, but whatever she has to say is lost in loud music.

When she’s tripped for the 3rd time, he huffs, and scoops her up over his shoulder. She whines her protest, but doesn’t go beyond thumping her palms against his back a couple times. The party seems to clear a path for him, leaving confused stares and inevitable gossip in his wake as he makes his way out.

Passing Victoria, who starts to step in his path, he just shakes his head and gives her a look that says he’ll tell her later. She nods, and opens the door to the parking lot for him.

Mouthing “thank you” to her, he turns first towards the dorms, then curses and changes course. If he took her to her room, Warren would find them there. If he takes her to his dorm, Warren is even closer.

She thumps against his back again, and he finally sets her down. She sways dangerously, and he steadies her against himself. Scanning the parking lot for where to go, he finally spots his truck.

It’s not in the least romantic, or comfortable, and he’s certain they’ll both be miserable by morning, but he knows it’s safe. Plus, there’s blankets and pillows stashed for his nights out.

Taking her hands, he leads her carefully but quickly towards his truck, and she’s looking up at him.

He’s fumbling for his keys now, and she’s looking at him with a dazed smile.

Max thinks that, despite the nausea building slowly in her, that tonight has been absolutely perfect so far. He’s finally unlocked his truck and is gesturing for her to climb in the cab, but all she can focus on is the starlight reflected in his eyes.

“Nathan, can I tell you something?” She mumbles, taking a step towards him.

“Yes of course, Max, just as soon as you get in the car.” He offers, taking her hand and helping her climb in before following her in.

As he shuts the door behind them, she’s already snuggling up to him, hands grabbing at his shirt.

“Nathan, Nathan, Nathan.” She murmurs again, and he slides his arm around her, glancing out the window for any sight of Warren. She reaches up, and pulls his face back to hers.

He bumps his forehead to hers. Her eyes flutter shut, and she smiles. He would die for that smile, he thinks.

“Yes, Max?”

“Nathan, you’re beautiful you know.” She stills, and he’s not sure what to say. By the time he can form a reply in his brain, her breathing has slowed, and he’s pretty sure she’s asleep.

He laughs quietly to himself.

“You’re such a lightweight, Max Amber.”

_She dreams of soft hair in between her fingers and blue jackets._


	5. truck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max and nathan find themselves decoding all the spaces in between they've found

When Max finally wakes, she’s not sure why her head is pounding or her arm is numb. She’s also not sure why her bed is so warm, or why it has a heartbeat suddenly.

Wait. Beds don’t have heartbeats. She lets her eyes crack open slowly; the first thing she sees is navy and white.

She bolts upright abruptly, looking around frantically. The movement aches, and she groans before she can stop it. This is certainly not her dorm room, and this is certainly not her bed.

This is a truck, and when she looks down, shock dawns on her when she sees none other than Nathan Prescott. He’s still sleeping as far as she can tell, with a pillow behind his head against the driver’s side door. She tries to take stock of the situation as calmly as possible before the panic bubbles up.

She’s got a blanket over her, and a jacket. Her head is throbbing, and the light is making it worse; her mouth is so dry. Nathan also has all of his clothes still on, and it’s only when she’s looking him over that she notices his the wrinkled spot on his shirt - where she must have been sleeping. His hair is mussed.

_Sleeping_. She frantically remember last night, and it comes slowly. Pulsing music, dancing with Juliet and Dana- dancing with Nathan and Victoria. Dancing with _just Nathan_. Then...the bathroom? And then…

She feels her face burn at the memory of the bathroom. And yet, she can’t find any regret in her. As she tries to connect the then with the now, she remembers Warren, then running away and then...now. A quick survey of her own person tells her that all of her clothes are on, her pants are buttoned; the only thing altered is that her booties have been kicked off into the floorboards.

She reaches tentatively for the jacket that’s been draped around her shoulders. It’s soft, and it smells like him. She thinks the gesture is sweet, and very uncharacteristic. A glance back at Nathan reveals he’s rousing, his eyes fluttering open slowly to meet hers.

“Morning.” He mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face once, twice. He sits up slowly, running a hand through his hair to push it back.

“Hi…” She manages to croak back, then covers her mouth.

He gives her a half-smile.

“Little hungover?” She nods, wincing.

He looks her over. Her hair is mussed on one side where she’d snuggled up to him, her makeup smudged under her eyes. She’s holding his jacket around herself; he kind of likes the way it looks draped across her shoulders.

She’s looking back at him with those big blue eyes, chewing on her lip. He realizes then that she’s a little bit afraid, and confused.

He’s surprised to find that when he reaches out for her, she doesn’t flinch or move away. Instead, she lets him smooth her hair down, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Thank you.” She finally says when his hand is back in his lap.

He offers a noncommittal noise in his throat as response. She pulls his sweater around herself closer, a gesture he doesn’t miss.

“How about something to get rid of that headache? And something to eat.” He tries again, and she nods slowly.

“Will you tell me about last night afterwards?” He’s already pushing the pillow and blanket to the floorboards and reaching for his seatbelt. He looks back at her.

“Of course. We can talk about it over breakfast.”

Ameliorated, she reaches for the seatbelt, and he starts the truck. He glances back over at her, and now that her profile is to him, he sees the blooming purple spot on her neck. Inwardly, he smiles at that. It looks nice against the pale planes of her skin.

He pulls out of the parking lot in silence, which persists halfway to the Two Whales.

He catches Max moving from the corner of his eye, and when he glances over at her she’s pulling down the sun visor to examine herself in the mirror. She smooths her hair, then swipes at the makeup under her eyes. When she seems satisfied, she starts to lift the visor back up, then freezes.

He glances over at her again, and she’s touching the hickey on her neck in shock. Her face is quickly reddening.

“Nathan…” she mumbles, turning her head slowly to look at him. He keeps his eyes forward on the road, tries to remain nonchalant.

“Hm?”

“Did you...did we…?”   
“Did we what? You’re going to have to be more specific here, Caulfield.” He offers by way of reply. He wants her to say it out loud.

She’s still staring at him.

“Um. Max. I like when you call me Max.You called me Max last night, I think. Last night...I remember dancing with Dana and Juliet...and Victoria. And you. And the bathroom. And…” She trails off, and he looks in her direction again.

Her hands are fiddling with the hem of his sweater. She’s still looking at him.

“Yeah. I did that, _Max_. But that’s it. I wouldn’t...fuck. Y’know. Take advantage of you or whatever.” It’s his turn to look away with burning cheeks, scowling. She notices the edge in his voice.

Slowly, hesitantly, as if he might disappear if she touches him, she reaches over, settling her hand on his thigh delicately. His gaze shoots back to her, surprised.

“I don’t think that you would. I just was..y’know. I was just making sure. I guess…” She’s pretty sure they’re now competing for reddest face.

He clears his throat.

“Oh. right. Yeah.” She doesn’t move her hand for a long while, until they pull into the parking lot of the Two Whales. When she pulls away, he looks at her. She’s rubbing the marred place on her neck self-consciously, peering cautiously out the windows of his truck as if she might see someone she knows.

Apparently she does.

“Shit…” He’s surprised when the word comes out of her, and raises an eyebrow.

“Chloe is here. And Joyce. And Justin and Trevor..” He notices she sinks into the seat a little further.

“If you don’t want us to be seen together, I can get it to go?” He offers, noting in the back of his mind that his mood has begun to sour. Of course she wouldn’t want to be seen with him of all people.

“No! I mean...it’s not that. I just don’t want them to give you a hard time. For being with me I mean.” She reaches for him again, putting her hand on his where it’s still resting on the steering wheel. He looks from her hand to her face, and back again.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Right. Yeah. I’ll just...get it to go then. What do you want?”

When she’s told him her order, just a single belgian waffle with nothing else, he wonders why she wants so little, but he doesn’t ask. Squeezing her hand, he slides from the truck.

Max breathes deeply, slouching further into the passenger seat. She feels as if she and Nathan are on such thin ice, toeing the line between barely friends, and something much more. She’s not sure which side she’ll fall on by the end of the day.

She’s not sure which side he wants to fall on.

On one hand, she tells herself, he’s buying her breakfast, and they snuggled last night. They...did other stuff too but. Alcohol was involved. Does it count? Is she overthinking? How does he feel about it all…

Her head pounds from the avalanche of thoughts, and she’s wishing he’d produce that hangover cure sooner rather than later.  
When he returns, to-go boxes in one arm, two drinks balance precariously in the other, she hurries to open the truck door for him. He climbs in, pushing the styrofoam boxes between them.

“You needed something to take the medicine with.” He replies simply, and leans in.

She’s not sure where he’s going with this until he reaches between her legs to open the glove box. Pulling out an discriminant bottle, he uncaps it, and cups her hand in his to pour two white pulls into it.

She must look skeptical because he grins.

“Don’t worry, it’s just aspirin. Drink.” He drops her hand to push one of the drinks into it, and she mourns the feel of his soft skin against her.

What is happening to her?

Obediently, she downs the pills with a long sip of what turns out to be Gatorade. Satisfied with her actions, he puts his seatbelt on.

“So. Where to?” He asks. She’s caught off guard. She supposed she’d just expected him to take her back to the dorm.

“Uh...you choose.” She shrugs, sipping at her drink. He seems to ponder this for a moment, then nods decisively.

He pulls back out of the lot in a direction she doesn’t recognize, but she doesn’t ask where he’s taking her for some reason. Maybe she wants a surprise. Maybe she’s scared he actually is just taking her back to the school, and he’ll never want to talk to her ever again.

However, Max finds herself pleasantly surprised when Nathan instead turns them towards the beach. Before she can open her mouth to ask, he shrugs, mimicking her gesture. She thinks he even looks a little sheepish.

He parks in a shaded corner of the lot that’s only about half pavement, half sand. Without missing a beat, he’s unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the takeout containers before sliding out of the truck. Hesitantly, she takes the drinks and follows suit after shoving her feet quickly back into the discarded shoes from last night and pulling his jacket on properly.

When she’s climbed out of the truck, he’s already pulling the tailgate down.

“Blankets from last night, can you grab them?” He inclines his head back. He takes the drinks from her and she retrieves them as asked, grabbing the pillows too.

Once he’s spread them in the bed of the truck to his liking,he gestures for her to climb up. When she hesitates, he looks amused.

“These stilts aren’t so great for climbing.” She tries, and he actually laughs at her.

“Meek Max can’t climb in heels.” He teases and she actually sticks her tongue out at him. He only laughs harder at her. Then, before she can stop him or duck out of the way, he’s grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the tailgate as if she weighs nothing. Butterflies flurry around in her stomach at the feel of his hands on her waist, and she flashes back to last night.

She notices then that he hasn’t moved his hands. He’s standing between her knees, looking at her with an unreadable expression. Sitting there, her face is at the same height as his.

Nathan keeps his gaze trained on her face even as she flushes again, and he’s just now noticing all of the faint freckles that dot her cheekbones and nose. So very Max, he thinks.

She’s looking back at him now, and he’s hyperaware of how close they are. He remembers foggily being this close, and then _closer_ last night. He wonders if she’d let him kiss her sober, or if only drunk Max was so generous.

His hands are still on her waist over his jacket. He’s leaning in now before he can stop himself, and he waits for her to push him away, or tell him to stop.

Max does neither. She simply watches him through her lashes, her eyes flickering between his eyes and his mouth, until he’s close enough for their breath to mingle.

He’s staring at her lips now, and then she’s crossing the gap before he can.

He feels first her soft lips against his, hesitant but willing. Then her hands delicately on his chest, sliding up to cup the back of his neck, tangle in the baby fine hairs at his hairline. He pulls her towards him to meet his chest, hands moving to wrap around her back.

He’s holding on like she’ll vanish any second.

Nathan notices she’s less bold than last night, but he thinks that he likes this Max a little more. Like a doe taking first steps, she lets him in hesitantly, and he moves slow against her mouth. She responds in kind, following his lead, finding her stride.

He’s surprised when she tilts her head to fit her lips more fully to his, but not displeased.

Finally, tragically, he’s the first to pull back to catch his breath. She’s looking at him shyly, one hand touching her bottom lip now as if she’s savoring it.

She opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off.

“Max, I. Fuck, Max. Max. I really fucking like you. Like, shit. I dunno.” He’s the one reddening now, the back of his neck burning. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and he’s about to turn and run without stopping until he’s in a different state.

She finally responds.

“I’m glad...I um. Yeah. I like you too. A lot.” She finally manages, smiling hesitantly at him. Relief picks his heart back up out of his stomach.

He’s nodding then, and burying his face in her neck, embarrassed.

She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him embarrassed like this. They stay like this for a long while before finally she pulls away.

“Nathan…” Her face does not look encouraging and he’s scared that she’s changed her mind.

“Max, please, I…”

“I think our food is getting cold.”

He barks out a laugh, squeezing her again.

“I think you’re right.”

As he disentangles himself, she observes his movements. He’s less jerky like this, almost happy. Gentle even.

Max thinks to herself, as he passes her the single belgian waffle, that maybe she likes these little spaces where they meet in between. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> liminal is finally wrapped up! thanks for sticking with me! i hope you've enjoyed, I'll probably be eventually adding a bonus chapter either here, or in a separate work so keep an eye out for that, as well as another caulscott work i've already got in progress!


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